


The Quiet Between

by MapToWhereIAlreadyAm



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: F/M, Pre-Episode: s01e01: Spark of Rebellion, Tenderness, connection, post-AND, quiet romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-07 16:23:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14084865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapToWhereIAlreadyAm/pseuds/MapToWhereIAlreadyAm
Summary: What does love look like when no words are spoken? Four moments of reflection, from just after Gorse to the night before Spark of Rebellion.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [geekgirldiva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekgirldiva/gifts), [anyone who has ever reached out and connected with me](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=anyone+who+has+ever+reached+out+and+connected+with+me).



> Based on a prompt to show how Kanan and Hera communicate their love for each other without saying "I love you." I don't know if it technically fits the bill, but it was still sweet to explore the tender ways that connection happens without words.
> 
> Many thanks to Veritascara for beta'ing.
> 
> Concrit and constructive feedback welcomed AND appreciated, either in the comments below or feel free to message me on Tumblr (contact details in end notes).

Kanan thought it was a good idea at the time, being on her shiny new ship. Getting a new haircut was just another new start in a long line of many.

And short hair again? He was ok with _that_ too.

But as Hera lead the way through the streets of Mathas, it was dawning on him of how bad of an idea it really was. He resisted the urge to run his hand through it. It wasn't long enough for that and ended up sticking out at odd angles. She made him think dangerous thoughts. And this haircut was up there on the list of bad ideas. But at least he had no braid. He would've fiddled with that, too.

Instead, as a squad of stormtroopers marched by, his hand casually grazed the hilt of his blaster.

After Gorse, he had switched to a DL-18, another throwback to his early days. Its longer barrel necessitated a switch from a shoulder holster to a hip one. Like his new job and new haircut and new boss, he was still acclimatizing himself to it. And while his grip never rested on it long, years on the run had instilled survival instincts that had him seeking its reassuring presence. He only became conscious of his new tell when her gloved palm slipped into his.

Hera gave him a quick squeeze before releasing his fingers. Kanan flexed them and then held his hand anywhere except near the blaster. He glanced at her, and she flashed him an encouraging smile. Not a rebuke, but she had noticed.

And touching him? That was new. Despite the circumstances, the corner of his mouth lifted.

Hera furrowed her brow, squinting up the street. “My contact said we would find the goods in the merchant district. According to the map, it should be past the central square.”

Kanan nodded, trying to get his bearings. The settlement was an in-between size. Bigger than a village, but to call it a city was a stretch. And ancient. Its narrow roads spoke to a time before speeders. When he couldn't orient himself from the stone structures alone, he glanced up, scanning above the mud-packed rooftops.

His eyes caught on a distinctive set of spires rising above the closest buildings, and his heart fluttered in his chest.  He jerked his head away wishing he hadn't seen it.

He had glimpsed them earlier on their descent into the lone spaceport and chalked it up to poor vision from the rain. But now that the air had cleared and the night sky illuminated it, he couldn’t stop the growing sense of unease. Four spires on top of a larger steeple, looking so distinctive and familiar.

Yet also so unlikely. Not at this stage of galactic history.

A woman with a hacking cough brushed Kanan's shoulder, and he faltered. It was a common sound on the streets of Mathas, the plague infecting only those unfortunate to be born here—the struggle to find sufficient oxygen, as if you could never get enough air no matter what you did. Kanan felt a sympathetic tightening in his own chest.

An elbow in his side brought him back to reality. “Kanan?”

“Hm?”

Hera had been talking.

She arched an eyebrow before jerking her head down the street. “I said, we are to meet two Rodians, but I doubt we’ll encounter trouble.”

Kanan decided he should focus on the way her hand rested on her hip. It was still distracting but better that than getting spooked by ghosts of his past.

“Two Rodians vs. you and me? I think we’ll be fine,” he smirked. He refrained from patting her arm. There was such a thing as overkill.

“Yeah, just want to make sure we’re both… _here_ ,” she said, not sounding convinced as they rounded the corner into the main square.

“There’s no other place I’d rather be than with—” His charm trailed off as he took in the structure opposite from them.

It _was_ a temple.

A Jedi temple. A small one, probably used for outreach purposes, to support the local population. Not for monastics and educating future Jedi. It was only a fraction of the size of the one on Coruscant. But Kanan could see it for what it once was—home.

But not his. An impromptu garrison for the Empire. A half dozen off-duty stormtroopers lounged on the front steps. It should have been burnt down or razed, but, in backwater parts of the galaxy even the Empire’s might was muted by necessity and had been repurposed. Dilapidated, the outside was plastered with recruitment posters.

Kanan had never been to Mathas. Besides, the Order had had hundreds, possibly thousands of locations, if you included abandoned structures used throughout the years. So it’s not like he should have been expecting to stumble across it. And as much as Kanan tried to ignore everything about his past, he couldn’t miss the extreme steps the Empire had taken to rewrite history by destroying the Jedi’s physical presence. But, even they left traces.

If he had known what they would have encountered, he was sure he would have talked her out of the pickup or, heck, remained on the Ghost with Chopper.

But now it was in front of him and he could do nothing. Literally nothing. His brain stopped working, so he didn’t register the way his body tightened and his lungs constricted. Hera was asking him something. There were questions. A nagging sense he shouldn’t stand there staring. That he was drawing attention to himself.

Kanan wasn’t sure when he became aware of his sight again. He only knew he had stopped seeing for a time.

The temple no longer filled his vision and the smell of rotting food filled his consciousness. Dimly he heard the buzz of flies and her voice murmuring soothing words.  The cold of durasteel seeped through the fabric of his pants, and he ran his fingers along the edge of something smooth and hard. They were in an alley and he was sitting on the lid of a refuse container. Had she led him here?

He was staring at nothing as his senses slowly began processing the world. No, he saw her chest.  And not in _that_ way, either. But reassuring. The gentle rise and fall of it. The movement corresponded with a soft caress of warmth on his cheek. One hand on his shoulder. The other smoothed his hair.

“Breathe,” she was murmuring.

So he did.

“Just. Breathe.”

Hera's example reminded him of how it worked. In and out. Without trying, he synced his breath to hers. He had forgotten how and needed to relearn.

With each inhalation, the world began anew.

Each exhalation the fear lessened.

And in between was a quiet that spoke volumes, as her eyes held his, sitting on a rubbish bin in a backwater system.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Hera decided she approved of the longer length of Kanan's hair. It hung in shaggy waves, skimming the top his bunched shoulders as he leaned on the bar of a Mid-Rim cantina ordering a drink. Not long enough yet to tie back into the brush he had when they first met. The shorter cut and a clean shave he had favored for a bit made him look too young. Younger than her. Like a younger brother. If her brother was human and flirted with his older sister.

To be fair, the flirting had mostly stopped months ago. Too much time together and too many close scrapes. Mostly. Which was why she was surprised when he set the beer down in front of her without comment.

Hera watched the bubbles slid up the inside of the glass before sneaking a glance at him. He had his back against the edge of the bar now, a foot braced against her barstool, and was observing the other patrons.

She cleared her throat.

"Remind me again why we're sitting here nursing a…?"

"An Abednedo lager. Think of it as a gift."

"Great," she deadpanned. "I’ve always wanted to try one of these."

Kanan dipped his head in chagrin. "Not the drink," he corrected. “An introduction."

"Oh, well, yeah. Meeting friends of yours is sure to be a treat." She raised her glass in mock salute before taking a sip.

Hera wasn’t trying to be difficult. It was just coming out that way.

She had a cargo hold full of water filters. They had been destined for the Ithor people and while the pickup had gone off without a hitch, the Empire had somehow caught wind of the operation. Their contact, a blockade runner, had gotten cold feet and now she didn't know how they would get the goods dirtside. So when Kanan had been uncharacteristically insistent that they go out for a drink, she had balked. Repeatedly. Until she realized Kanan never pushed hard on anything and that made her pause.

Ostensibly they went out to “meet some folks,” not that she wasn’t ready to walk if this took a personal turn. He _had_ dropped the swagger when he joined her on the Ghost. Mostly.

He sighed. “Can you just talk to them? And they aren't friends, not exactly.”

“Coworkers?”

He shook his head.

“Acquaintances?”

Kanan rolled his eyes.

“Family?”

He fixed his gaze on Hera. He knew she knew the answer to that, but he pointedly said "no" anyways. His discomfort was a small pleasure after today’s events.

“So who are they? Exactly," Hera said, going for broke.

He sighed and paused before answering, as if weighing how much to say. "Rugo and Krug Modun. A pair of Cerean brothers. They’re smugglers among… other occupations. Run contraband in the Elochar sector and have an elaborate network of caches. I think they'll be willing to work with us to get the water purifiers past the Imperial blockade.”

Hera felt hope bloom in her chest. This could still happen. But then her eyes narrowed. “Willing to work with us? Why would they agree to do that?”

Kanan shrugged. “I’m persuasive?”  

He pulled himself to his full height, perking up as he spotted someone across the cantina. “And speak of the devils.”

Hera frowned, her desire to get the relief supplies delivered warring with her intuition.

Kanan raised a hand at a pair of Cereans standing by the door scanning the crowd. One was tall and thin, the other more rotund. Despite their size differences they were unmistakably related. The shorter one jerked his head in acknowledgment.

“How did you find them? You’ve been with me every moment since you came on board,” Hera said under her breath.

“From… earlier.”

“ _Earlier_ , earlier?!” She couldn’t picture the Jedi Order working with smugglers but what did she know.

"No!" He scowled. "Just… earlier."

She wondered how long before meeting her he had known the pair. One thing Kanan didn’t do was talk about his past. She didn’t know what it was like being a Jedi. And she didn’t know how he survived. Nor did she know anything of his time before she found him on Gorse. Curiosity had gotten the best of her once and she had asked him. He had mumbled something about keeping his head down and staying out of trouble.

She held back a smile at this bit of information; it was telling that he had chosen the exact opposite of trouble by joining up with her.

The Modun brothers were polite in their introductions, barely sparing a glance at Hera until Kanan introduced her as his boss. Then they narrowed their eyes appraisingly and refrained from commenting on whatever assumptions they might have had. They kept their attention on Kanan, though. Hera could see there was a history there.

“You’ve gotten taller since the last time we saw you,” the big one, Krug, said.

“That’ll happen.”

“Seven years is too long.” Rugo clapped him on the back. “We would love to have you back.”

Kanan gave him a pinched smile.

Hera frowned, trying to process. “Ah, so you worked together?” Seven years. He would have been sixteen at the time.

Kanan blanched, then shrugged.

“Our youngest merc,” Rugo said, a touch of pride in his voice.

“And our best,” Krug added begrudgingly.

Kanan shifted awkwardly.

“He once liberated a smuggler’s cargo hold full of black-market Pyber birds for us,” Rugo boasted.

Krug’s eyes lit up. “Now, _that_ was a lucrative job.”

“And noisy,” Kanan added more to himself than for anyone else’s benefit.

The taller brother elbowed his sibling. “Don’t forget the time he held up a Luxury 3000 with only a blaster and a defective thermal detonator. We made off with a million credits worth of the finest Corellian booze.”

“Too bad we drank most of the proceeds,” Rugo said, a wistful look in his eyes.

Kanan cast a glance at Hera, laughing nervously.

“Oh, really?” She arched an eyebrow at him. “Armed robbery?”

"I prefer the term ‘hired gun’," he said as he cupped the back of this neck.

Leaning in towards Hera, Rugo confided, "When we first met him he was trying to steal a load of glitterstim."

“ _And_ drug dealing?” she asked.

He bobbed his head in not-a-yes, not-a-no. “More like, opportunistic scavenging.”

Hera wondered if the brothers had taken pity on Kanan. That certainly wouldn't be a first. “Uh-huh. What happened?”

"There were ... discussions," Kanan replied, glaring at Rugo.

The man shrugged. "We gave him the choice of working with us or, you know..."

"No. What?" Hera asked looking back and forth between the brothers.

"Face consequences." Krug's tone was matter-of-fact.

“‘Break every other bone in my body’ I believe was how you phrased it.” Kanan said.

“Was it ‘every other’? I’ve forgotten the details,” Krug replied.

“Too bad he had the heart of a thief and the scruples of a Jedi,” Rugo said.

Hera stiffened and shot a glance at Kanan who seemed to be doing his best to not look at anything.

“How’s that?” she asked.

“Refused to work on the most lucrative jobs. Walked out on the last one. Having second thoughts and want a piece of the action now, Jarrus?”

“Not interested in your trafficking schemes, Rugo.”

“It’s helping refugees find asylum.” Krug’s words were light but Hera heard the undercurrent all the same.

“Not if they aren’t there by choice.” Kanan’s words were quiet.

The tension stretched between them.

Krug’s annoyance got the better of him. “What do you want, Jarrus?”

“You owe me.”

The man worked his jaw as he avoided meeting Kanan’s eyes. “Yeah. What off it?”

A lopsided grin escaped Kanan’s lips. “We want access to your network. To bypass the Ithor blockade.”

“Listen that’s our livelihood why would—?!”

Rugo pulled on his brother’s shoulder. “Just do it, Krug. You’re alive because of him. Besides, you’ve wanted to be out from under this debt for seven years.”

"Fine!" Krug held out a finger in warning. "Then we’ll be even. What will we be running?”

“Water filters,” Hera said.

He looked at her in disbelief before sputtering, “Water filters?!”

“Water filters.” Kanan crossed his arms.

“We can do it,” Rugo said, clapping his hand on his brother's shoulder.

“Fine,” Krug repeated. “But the first sign of trouble, I’m jettisoning them. I have a reputation to uphold and running relief supplies isn’t how—”

Rugo pulled at his brother. “Come on. You pull the codes. I’ll check in with the crew.”  The pair retreated to an empty booth to work out the details.

Hera leaned towards Kanan, close enough to feel his body heat. She spoke in a low tone that wouldn't carry. “You never told me you were a pirate.”

He closed his eyes. “I was… young.” His face twisted in uncertainty, the muscle in his jaw clenched but he didn’t move away from her.

She felt a tug deep in her chest. His hand was resting on the counter. She grabbed it. “You didn’t want me to see this side of you,” she whispered.

A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. “I don’t want to see this side of me.”

Hera pulled her gaze from Kanan when the brothers returned.

“The crew has been notified about the job. Here’s the list of passcodes you’ll need,” Rugo said holding a data chip in his open palm.

Krug held back, sulking, his arms across his chest.

Kanan moved to take the proffered data chip and Hera felt the coolness where he had been standing. But his other hand remained on the counter, enclosed in Hera’s own.

As the brothers planned the job with Kanan, Hera found that she was having a hard time concentrating.

She could hear what was spoken, but the meaning was dropping away. The harder she concentrated the more she noticed the space around the words. It was quiet but not silent. The air was abuzz with the reverberations of ideas spoken and not.

But it was in that place between the words that she understood what Kanan himself never said.

The actions he was taking. The past he was facing.

For a rebellion.

For her cause.

For her.

And in the quiet between words, as he negotiated a smuggling run in a seedy Mid-Rim cantina, Hera understood.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Kanan started awake, naked limbs tangling in the sheets.

Reaching for Hera, he knew what he would find. The spot next to him was cool. Lifting his head to peer over the edge of the bunk, he spotted his trousers in a pool next to the ladder, his underwear tossed onto the bench, one boot peeking out from under the worktable, and the other? Force only knew where he had tossed it last night when he yanked it off in his haste to strip. Her clothing was missing though. Not even a glove or head cap.

He dropped back onto the bunk frowning at the turn of events.

It was entirely unexpected, yet in many ways unremarkable.

***

_ A successful milk run to Spiran was followed by a modest celebratory dinner in the galley. They had the finest of protein cubes and vegetable packs supplemented with a fresh meiloorun. Their conversation went long into the night. _

_ “We’ll head to Lothal next. Ever been there?” Hera's ankles were crossed, and her gloved hands gripped the edge of the counter. She disappeared behind the open cabinet door as Kanan rummaged for ingredients. _

_ "Can’t say I have." He set her favorite purple caf mug by her hip. "But if the Empire is there, I’m sure we’ll be able to find trouble." _

_ He leaned past her to place the pot on the heating element. She didn't move. He didn't swerve and when they came nose to nose, they both froze, eyes wide. As if on impulse and before sanity got the best of her, Hera leaned in and pressed her mouth against his. He didn’t stop her. Instead and inexplicably her arms rose to circle his neck. He pulled her body against his, feeling the soft swell of her breasts against his chest, the curve of her waist under his hand. _

_ The caf was never made. It was just as well since watching Hera sleep kept Kanan awake most of the night anyways. _

***

Lovemaking hormones sedated him and sleep came slowly. She was illuminated by the soft glow of the myriad equipment in her quarters. Her legs stretched out, aligning with his. Her toes pressed onto the top of his foot. When Hera stirred, he roused. When she shifted, his eyes fluttered open to see the rise and fall of her chest, her mouth slack. He restrained himself from pressing his lips against hers... again.

Hera slept deep. He knew this. But before last night, it had been second-hand knowledge. How many times had he tried to wake her for the next shift, pounding on her door until she gave him a bleary acknowledgement? Once she had fallen asleep in the cockpit and hadn't even opened her eyes when he picked her up and carried her to her bunk. But now? Now he had an intimate understanding of her sleeping habits.

Kanan didn't remember falling asleep. It was disconcerting that he didn't know when she had left him. Had she tried to wake him? Given him a parting kiss on the forehead? Or had she simply gotten dressed and moved on? Maybe she was having morning regrets. Did she just want her bunk back?

And now that it was morning, and he was alone — again — last night took on a different feeling.

***

_ Kanan's heart was pounding in his ears, the caf forgotten as they made out in the galley. His world narrowed to everything but her kisses and the feel of her hands tugging at his shirt. He longed to lean into all of her, but restrained himself. Instead, breaking away to create space, a firm hand pressed to her shoulder.  _

_ “Are you sure?” he asked.  _

_ Hera's hands froze, and the spell was broken. Her breathing was quick, stirring the hair that had come loose in her caresses. It tickled his cheek, but he didn’t move. The tension between each beat of his heart grew. _

_ She broke the silence with a wide smile. "When am I not?" And took his hand, pulling him towards her room. _

_ He, of course, would follow her wherever she led him. _

***

Kanan had stopped thinking of Hera as someone he wanted to bed a long time ago. Except he did. He wanted to see her naked and to do the things they had done last night. But he had stopped  _ thinking _ about it. So, now that it had happened, his world was reeling. Nothing should have changed. Except it had. And he didn’t know why he thought she would be next to him when he woke, except for the sinking feeling when she wasn’t there. 

He squinted at the ceiling, trying to recall what was on the agenda for the day. A new system? Yes, meeting a criminal-type with information on activities on the planet. She would already be moving past the events of last night. 

But he couldn’t get her out of his mind. Couldn't get out of her bed. The space that separated them had disappeared last night. And now it was all he could see. 

***

_ Last night, when Kanan moved between her thighs, Hera's expression melted. Her words dissolved into sighs. He held back, just a bit. The part of himself that felt the Force, that saw the tension connecting all life, watched. To remember the moment.  _

_ How the flesh of her thigh yielded to his grip.  _

_ A leg hooked over his knee.  _

_ A delicate heel digging into his calf.  _

_ Her hips rising to meet his.  _

_ The pulse in her neck throbbing in counterpoint to their movements. _

_ Then even that stopped as eternity stretched out before him. _

***

Groaning, Kanan pulled the pillow over his head. 

What came next? He wanted a life that he didn’t have. But if he got the ending he wanted — someone who would rather stay in bed with him than saving the galaxy — well, that wouldn’t be Hera. And, he wanted Hera. All of her. Not just the woman who made him feel good, who purred when he pressed his mouth on her sensitive spots, who made his toes curl and kept him awake with her beauty.  But also the woman whose heart was so big she wanted to save everyone. The one who, even now, was researching everything there was to know about Lothal.

***

_ Hera had left the bunk once already. Not long after their lovemaking, she dropped to the deck on shaky legs and stumbled, barely catching herself. _

_ Kanan peered over the edge. “Whoa. You ok?”  _

_ “Yeah, but next time, we’ll do it in your bunk. Closer to the ground.” _

_ He snorted. “The pilot wants to be closer to the ground.”  _

_ Then he hid his smile in the pillow. _

**_Next time…_ **

_ After the refresher, she returned and climbed back into the bunk on steadier legs. Still as naked as she had left. They twined hands and spoke of everything except what had just happened between them. _

***

There was no doubt. Only peace. There would be a next time and a time after that. He knew that as surely as he knew she was working on their next assignment.

Kanan’s face was still covered by her pillow and his lungs craved air, even as he decided his next steps.

He would leave the bed and make those mugs of caf that had been forgotten last night. Hera would need it as she planned their next steps. Maybe they would eventually speak of what had happened. Or maybe they wouldn’t. 

Then the air was gone.

His heart thudded loud his ears.

And when the quiet between became as distinctive as the beats themselves, he rose from her bunk in a jewel-shaped freighter hurtling through hyperspace, to follow this woman with passion enough for the both of them.

 


	4. Chapter 4

“Hera,” Sabine called out as Hera descended the ladder leading from the Phantom.

It broke through Hera’s concentration and the two lists she mentally juggled — one for repair parts and another for supplies. The Phantom's gas cartridges, the ones that powered the laser cannons, were getting dangerously low. So they went on the supplies list. She had more than two lists, but those were the two that preoccupied her as she descended into the common room.

Sabine was sitting at the table studying a holographic projection. Capital City streets by the look of it. “Zeb just got back from Jho’s. His buddy came through with the intel.”

All thoughts of gas cartridges vanished. Hera's voice rose with hope. “The Imperial shipment schedule?”

"Yup, looks like at least two crates-worth of weapons — E-11’s. We might be able to snag other goodies as well."

“Other goodies? Go on.”

“Some stuff the folks at Tarkin Town might appreciate.”

Sabine was proficient at seizing the opportunity. 

“Great. You have a plan?” Hera asked.

“Already on it.”

“If we can get those blasters…”

“Yes, Hera. I know. The Wookies.” Sabine turned back to the projection, studying it over steepled fingers.

Hera smiled. Sabine would study the scenario intensely then run it by Kanan only when she was confident of her plan. The girl was coming into her own, but she wanted — no, needed — to move at her own pace. That worked out fine for everyone here. It also allowed Hera to concentrate on other projects. 

Like investigating the rumors around the Sienar Weapons Systems factory. Or a new black market buyer on Garel that she wanted to vet. Alternatives to Vizago were a good idea. He had never outright given them trouble but only because his interests and the Spectres’ had lined up. But Kanan invariably had a bad feeling about the man. And she supposed one of these days their relationship might take a turn for the worse. So, yes, alternatives in dealing with Imperial contraband couldn't hurt.

Hera blinked at the sudden glare of moonlight, surprised to find herself on the Ghost's ramp, the plains of Lothal spread before her. Surprising because she had been heading towards her room to grab a datapad and do research. Despite her to-do list, her feet had a mind of their own.

Kanan's silhouette was dark against the dusk skyline, the last bits of the day fading into orange. The eastern sky was littered with stars and both moons had already risen, low in the south. He said nothing, his back to her, standing at the edge of the Ghost's hull. But she knew him well enough to know he sensed her. She debated returning to the cargo hold, already thinking of a contact she could hit up for more intel on the factory.

But something made her pause. The tension in his shoulders? A nudge of her subconscious?

A rare rain had passed over the ship earlier in the day, leaving the air clean and the temperature unseasonably cool. Hera rubbed her her arms as she called out, "Sabine will need your help tonight."

Kanan finally turned, his face still in shadow. “The shipment schedule?”

Hera nodded and waded through the grass towards him. The stems arched, heavy with moisture, and fat raindrops fell onto her flight pants. The prairie released a sweet scent with every step.

“The Wookiees?” he asked as she approached.

“Yes.” She couldn’t keep the smile out of her voice.

“Hm, good.” Kanan sounded distant, turning back to the horizon.

“You guys should do the run tomorrow.”

When he didn’t reply, she asked. “What is it?”

“I don’t know, it’s… something…”

“The… Force?” Hera was still hesitant to talk about it. Or rather, Kanan was reluctant to put it into words. And she respected that, not wanting to open old wounds. But sometimes she wondered if being pushed out of his comfort zone might be what he needed.

“I don’t know about that,” he scoffed. His tone suggested he knew exactly about that and he wasn’t having any of it.

She suppressed a flash of irritation.  “Nah, of course not.” 

Kanan was silent again.

She sighed. 

Hera turned to leave, making it halfway to the ramp before she was struck by how they seemed to be operating on two different wavelengths. She turned, taking a tentative step towards him, then suddenly resolute. The research could wait. 

He glanced down at her when she approached again. It was too dark to make out his expression. Probably the questioning one, with the eyebrow raised. But she didn't explain, just slid an arm around his waist. In response, he said nothing, only draping his arm over her shoulder. With her cheek against his chest, his body warmth and human aroma mingled with prairie scents and rain-cooled Lothali air, and she leaned even further into him. He made a low hum, acknowledging her connection. She felt it more than heard it until even that sensation was lost in the hushed sound of wind over the prairie.

And Hera understood.

Her body felt it. Her feet knew. Even her subconscious was complicit. 

Sometimes she just needed to be with him.

Doing nothing, but being. With him. 

For the moment, the space between their bodies had vanished. And the quiet between them was more than enough as they linked arms under the hull of the Ghost on the plains of Lothal.

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow my writing progress and snippets on Tumblr: as [MapToWhereIAlreadyAm.](http://maptowhereialreadyam.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Including my current WIP - a long-form, slow-burn, romance/action Kanera AU (eta for posting mid-2018) called [ Blue Dust.](http://maptowhereialreadyam.tumblr.com/tagged/calera-au)


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